


things that matter too much to say any way but lightly

by somehowunbroken



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-21
Updated: 2011-03-21
Packaged: 2017-10-17 04:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/172935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the stevedannoslash After Holidays Prompt Fest. The prompt: A/U. Steve is raising his daughter Grace alone; he left the SEALs to care for her after her mother was killed. He was never with her mother; Steve always knew he was gay, but was trying to be straight to please his father. Grace was the result of Steve's only night with a woman.</p><p>Danny transferred to the HPD after his wife/child were killed in a mob hit in NJ; he needed to get as far away from the memories as possible. He ends up working on Steve's task force, but has a hard time seeing Steve and Grace together. It doesn't take long for Steve to fall in love with Danny, but he's too scared to do anything about it. Danny doesn't want to feel anything anymore, but is still drawn to Steve. Grace decides to take matters in to her own hands, and make the family she's always wanted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	things that matter too much to say any way but lightly

**Author's Note:**

> There is character death in this. It's not main team and it's not Gracie, but it is a kind of major plot point - more than once - so if that's something you'd rather not read, I'd suggest skipping this story.
> 
> Title is from the Vienna Teng song Daughter.

Steve gets the call on a Thursday. He’s back in Hawaii in less than thirty hours, which is a goddamned feat of determination and more than a few threats. He walks into the hospital without a word, flipping his identification at anyone who tries to stop him, until he’s standing outside the right room.

Catherine looks small and pale and fragile, nothing like the woman she is or the girl she’d been. There’s purple bruising along her face, and everything that’s not in a cast is swollen. There are tubes and wires and things Steve can’t begin to identify hooked up to her, and he has to take a steadying breath before walking down the hall and ducking into the family waiting room.

“Steve,” he hears, and he turns to find Marilyn Rollins smiling the most heartbreaking smile at him from across the room. He’s by her side in a heartbeat, wrapping his arms around her and feeling the trembling in her frame as she returns the embrace. “I’m glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” he murmurs into her hair. “Cath is my best friend, Marilyn. And Gracie-” Steve’s breath catches. “Where’s Gracie?”

“Daddy?” a small voice says from behind him, and as Steve turns, a tiny form hurtles across the room towards him. Steve is bending before he finishes turning, and in a matter of seconds, he’s holding his five-year-old tightly to his chest as she wraps her arms around his neck.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,” she repeats again and again into his shoulder. “Mommy got hurt, Daddy. Can you make her better?”

Steve breathes in against the ache in his chest and runs his hand through Gracie’s hair. “I don’t know, munchkin,” he murmurs as Roger Rollins walks over to his wife. “I just don’t know.”

“Okay,” Grace replies, still clinging to him for all she’s worth.

Steve knows the feeling.

-0-

Cath doesn’t look any better when Steve finally musters up the courage to sit by her bed for a little while. He’s always been shit at this whole thing, the bedside manner stuff; Cath knows that, had seen it as Steve had sat vigil by his father’s deathbed when Grace was only a few months old.

 _Grace_. Grace, his biggest fluke in life, the one thing he treasures more than every other damn thing on the planet put together, the only thing that could ever make him consider leaving the Navy. He’d hooked up with Cath exactly one time; his father had just been diagnosed, he’d been desperate, and she’d understood the whole thing. They’ve known each other since high school, when he was the quarterback and she the captain of the soccer team. She’s the one he came out to his sophomore year, the one who’d rubbed his back when he’d shown up, shaking, after he’d told his dad. When he’d shown up at her door after driving away from the hospital, she hadn’t even blinked as she gathered him in. And in the morning, when he’d had a breakdown about using her and enjoying it, she’d cleaned him up and calmed him down and put him back together.

And then, a few weeks later, she’d told him she was pregnant.

His father had been overjoyed, and Steve could only be grateful that it seemed to push his father harder. He swore he’d live to see his grandbaby, come hell or high water, and Steve is still convinced that Grace is what kept his dad around for so long.

Cath, in her infinite wisdom, had gracefully declined when Steve had proposed. “We’ll both be miserable,” she’d said gently. “Don’t let your father push you into something you don’t really want.” He was living in her guest room at the time, helping her to appointments, making her ridiculous ice cream sundaes when she woke up cranky after a nap, and generally trying to do the right thing by her without having the slightest idea what the right thing was.

Grace was born on a Monday. Steve woke to Cath yelling and groaning from her bedroom, and Steve leapt up and had her and their bags in the car in less than ten minutes. He’d held her hand the whole time and tried not to think too much about what was actually going on, but then there had been a long groan from Cath and a shrill, angry sound from the other end of the table, and Steve had dropped her hand and turned to look at the tiny wailing bundle in the nurse’s arms.

It was the first and only girl that Steve had ever loved, right there, and he took in a sharp breath as the nurse laid the baby in his arms.

Steve smiles as he thinks back to the day, how happy he’d been, how happy Cath had been. And sure, it’s been a little difficult since then – Cath had had to take a job on the island in order to stay with Grace, and Steve didn’t get to see his baby girl nearly as often as he would have liked – but Grace is growing up strong and beautiful, and things are going pretty well.

Or they were until Cath’s car had been hit dead-on, until she’d fallen into a coma, until Steve had gotten a phone call about brain damage and uncertainty and Cath probably going to die. Until he’d had to rush home to watch as his best friend slipped away, until he’d had to hold their daughter and try to think of how he was going to explain this to her.

Steve sighs and grabs for Cath’s hand, holding it gently in his fingers. He traces the cast with his thumb as he sits, waits, hopes against hope.

She passes away less than five hours after Steve gets there.

-0-

Everything is a blur after the machines start making their terrifying noises, pulling nurses and doctors into the room. They shoo him out and fly around, moving this way and that and crowding Cath’s bed for what seems like days, keeping her from view. Marilyn is gripping his arm like a vice as she stands beside him, staring into the room; Roger is on her other side, tears already rolling down his face. Grace is, thankfully, asleep. She doesn’t even stir when Steve takes her from Marilyn’s arms and cradles her gently, and Steve tries desperately to think of the words he can use to explain to her that Mommy isn’t going to wake up, that they’re going to have to bury her, oh, Christ, _Cath_.

Because that’s a grim-faced doctor coming out of her room, speaking levelly and quietly, that’s Marilyn letting out the most god-awful sound he’s ever heard, those are his own knees threatening to give out as the doctor offers them his condolences.

It’s hazy after that, making arrangements and letting people know. The next clear thought Steve has is at the funeral, wearing his smart dress blues and Gracie’s little hand in his own, her face tear-streaked as she tugs on his hand and asks him why Mommy has to sleep under all the dirt. He accepts condolences and murmured words of comfort and doesn’t think about what comes next, doesn’t think about tomorrow. He has no idea what he’s doing tomorrow; as of this point last week, his plans had been to arrive in Algeria tomorrow, but that’s clearly no longer on the agenda.

Then he’s at his house, Grace curled up in his lap as he slumps on the couch, Marilyn and Roger hesitantly offering to take Grace in, to raise her, and he’s not sure how to turn them down without seeming ungrateful, but Grace is _his_. He owes it to Cath – owes it to Grace herself – to stay with his baby, to be her father; he’s already put in the paperwork to transfer to the Reserves. Marilyn must see it in his face, because she gives him the same watery smile that she had in the hospital and kisses his cheek before pulling Roger out the door.

And now Steve is alone in the house he inherited from his father, wondering what his life is going to be like.

-0-

Governor Jameson isn’t what Steve was expecting. For one, there is not a single bullshitting bone in her body; when she tells him _what you see is what you get_ , Steve believes her without hesitation. She explains what she wants in no uncertain terms before leaning back into the chair on Steve’s lanai, taking another swig from the beer she’d asked him for. Grace is playing in the sand a few feet away, moving it from one pile to another as Steve watches her intently.

“I’m sorry about your wife,” Jameson says after a silence that’s gone on for probably too long. Steve jerks his head, never looking away from his daughter.

“We weren’t married,” he tells her. Sometimes half-truths are better, but sometimes people need to know all the details; if the Governor is seriously considering giving him this position, she needs to know. “Cath was my best friend, Governor, since high school. She’s one of only a very few people who knew about me.” He hesitates, thinks _in for a penny_ , and adds, “I’m gay.”

To her credit, she doesn’t even blink. “Then Grace isn’t-”

“She is,” Steve cuts in. He gives her a lopsided smile. “It’s a little complicated.”

“I see,” Jameson replies, taking another swig of the beer.

There’s another stretch of silence before Jameson stands. “I know you have a lot on your plate right now, Commander,” she says gently. “But I’d really like you to consider my offer.”

“I’ll think about it,” Steve says, standing to shake her hand, already knowing he’s going to decline. His eyes flick over to Grace as he picks up his empty beer bottle. She’s still moving sand from one pile to another, singing something under her breath.

Jameson takes the empty bottles from him and smiles a little when he turns to look at her. “I’ll rinse them and leave them on the counter,” she tells him. “You stay with your daughter.”

Steve watches her go inside and hears the water turn on before he sits back down to watch Grace play.

-0-

Steve changes his mind about the Governor’s offer two weeks after Cath dies.

He’s mostly been wandering through his days, trying to settle himself and Grace into this new life of theirs. He took her to the Home Depot and let her pick out obscenely bright colors for her room, and they’d spent time turning everything purple and lime green. It’s a truly atrocious sight to behold, but Grace absolutely adores it, so Steve resigns himself to repainting in a few years and goes with it. Roger and Marilyn come for supper twice a week, and everything still feels rough around the edges, but it seems like they’re all finally starting to settle.

It’s Saturday morning, and Steve and Grace are in their pajamas on the couch, watching Spongebob and Patrick amble around underwater. Grace had woken around daybreak screaming, sobbing for her mother, and Steve had held her helplessly until she’d worn herself out. He’d carried her into his bedroom and curled around her as well as he could, trying to shield her dreams, hoping she’d get a few sound hours of sleep.

Out of nowhere, there’s a knock on the door. Steve is instantly on alert; he can’t put fifteen years of training behind him, especially not when his daughter is involved in the situation. He tucks Grace carefully into the crook of the couch where she’s hidden from view and makes his way to the front door, opening it a crack with his left hand while keeping his right lightly on the semiautomatic he’d retrieved from the top of the bookcase.

“Commander McGarrett,” the man on the porch says, flashing a badge almost too quickly for Steve to see. “Detective Danny Williams, HPD.”

Steve assesses him quickly. He’s short but solid, broad in the shoulders, and carries himself confidently. He’s clearly not from around here – he’s wearing a _tie_ , for crying out loud – but he’s also not a rookie. The easy way he carries the weight of the gun on his hip can attest to that.

“Detective,” Steve nods when he’s done, only a few seconds after Williams stopped speaking. “What can I do for you?”

Williams hesitates. “Look, can I come in? This is kind of – it’s not really the happiest news, and I’d really rather not deliver it on your porch.”

Steve tenses, thinking of Marilyn and Roger, thinking about Mary somewhere on the mainland. He steps back and opens the door silently, making his way back to where Grace is still nestled in the couch, eating Apple Jacks out of the box.

“Who’s here, Daddy?” she chirps, twisting as Steve enters the room. Williams trails after, and Steve turns to make introductions. The words die on his lips as he takes in Williams’ appearance: tense, closed-off, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else doing anything else. Steve’s not sure what could have possibly prompted the reaction, so he makes his way to his daughter’s side.

“Grace,” he says as he swings her up into his arms, “this is Detective Williams. He’s a police officer.”

Grace regards him solemnly before extending her hand. Williams takes it gingerly and shakes it once before dropping it like it’s on fire.

“I’m Grace Elizabeth McGarrett,” she says. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

Something in Williams’ expression cracks, and he lets a tentative smile through the mask on his face. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” he tells her, before looking up at Steve. “I have to talk to your dad for a little while. Is that okay with you?”

Grace nods and wiggles in the universal sign for ‘put me _down_ , Daddy.’ She flops back onto the couch and picks up the Apple Jacks again, already absorbed in Spongebob.

“We’re going out on the lanai,” Steve tells her, gesturing for Williams to go through the kitchen. “Come get me if you need me, okay, munchkin?”

“Okay,” Grace replies, throwing him a sweet smile that’s so much Cath it makes his chest ache.

“Cute kid,” Williams offers as Steve walks out onto the lanai.

“Thanks,” Steve replies. “She looks like her mother.”

“Eh, she’s got your eyes,” Williams says. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah,” Steve tells him. “Thanks.”

There’s a weighted silence this time, like Williams is trying to decide how to say whatever he’s got to say. “Look, that’s kind of why I’m here,” he finally gets out. “I’m working on Ms. Rollins’ case.”

Steve feels the bottom of his stomach drop out. “What case?” he forces himself to ask.

Williams meets his eyes steadily. “There’s reason to believe that Ms. Rollins was murdered, Commander.”

Steve sits heavily in the chair he’s been standing beside. “Cath was murdered?” he asks faintly. “Who – why-”

“We’re not sure yet,” Williams is telling him, and his eyes are looking out over the ocean, not focusing on Steve at all. “There’s evidence that points to a few possibilities. I just stopped by to ask you a few questions and to inform you about the investigation.”

“A few possibilities,” Steve repeats. “What possibilities?”

“I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation,” Williams says patiently, finally meeting Steve’s eyes again. “Can you tell me when you last spoke to Ms. Rollins?”

“No, no, let’s go back to the part where you have reason to believe that Cath was murdered, you have leads, and you won’t share them with me,” Steve replies. “What are you looking at?”

Williams is visibly biting back the urge to get annoyed, Steve can see. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly before repeating himself. “I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation.”

“Look, I was Navy, I was in Naval Intelligence, I might be able to help,” Steve tries a little desperately. “What’s going on?”

“I understand that you want to help,” Williams says. “That’s good, Commander, it really is, but the thing that will help the most right now is for you to just answer my questions and let me do my job, okay?”

Steve stares at him for a moment before yanking out his cell phone and paging through his recent calls. It’s not too far down the list; he doesn’t get that many calls these days.

“What are you-” Williams begins, but Steve holds up a finger and he stops.

“Governor,” Steve says into the phone. “I changed my mind.”

-0-

Williams hadn’t been lying when he’d said there was evidence; it takes Steve days to sort through it all, and before he’s halfway done he’s already decided that he knows whose help he needs.

He shows up at Williams’ apartment with Grace in tow four days after the detective had come to his home. Williams opens the door with a frown on his face and opens his mouth, but shuts it with an audible click when he notices Grace hugging Steve’s leg.

“I need your help,” Steve says without preamble, taking Grace’s hand and walking past Williams into the apartment.

Williams isn’t happy. It’s not hard to see, and it’s just as simple to discern the reasoning; Steve has swept in and taken his case from him without so much as asking, and now he’s barging back into the man’s life and dangling it in front of his face.

“Look,” he says patiently. “I need a partner who does things differently. I need someone with fresh eyes, someone who’s gonna call me on my…” He waves his hand, indicating what he means as his eyes slide to Grace, who’s looking interestedly through the magazine Steve had bought for her on the way here. “Stuff. You know.”

Williams doesn’t look at Grace, even though he’s sitting less than two feet from her. “And you want me why, exactly?”

Steve shrugs. “Something tells me you’re the kind of guy who isn’t going to let me get away with things.”

Williams smiles the first smile Steve has seen out of him. It’s sharp-edged and twisted and not at all humorous. “You’re probably right about that.”

“Good,” Steve replies evenly. “Look, I know I’m probably not your favorite person right now-”

“You’re not,” Williams interjects.

“-but I need you,” Steve continues. “I’m doing you the courtesy of asking.”

“What, you think you could get my cooperation by ordering me to do it?” Williams rolls his eyes and snorts as his hands move, fast and sure, punctuating his words. “I’m not one of your Army boys, _Commander_.”

“Navy,” Steve corrects automatically. “And no, that’s not what I meant. When the Governor put me in charge, she said I could have whoever I want, no questions asked. I could have you pulled from HPD and sitting in the office next to mine without even breaking a sweat, but I’m asking instead.”

“Ah.” Williams seems to deflate a little. “Well, since you asked so nicely, and it was my case to begin with…”

“Thanks,” Steve says, honestly relieved that he’s not going to have to figure this out from scratch again. “Just – thanks.”

“Who’s that?” Grace pipes up from the end of the couch, and Steve turns to see her pointing to a framed photograph on the end table. It’s of a stunningly beautiful woman and a young girl, about seven or eight, if Steve had to guess. They’re sitting on a tree branch about eight feet off the ground, and they’re laughing about something, happiness forever caught in a four-by-six frame.

“My wife and my baby doll,” Williams says after a minute, and he’s got that strangled note in his voice again as he leans over and snatches it from the table, running his fingers across the glass. “Rachel and Julia.”

Steve has been reading body language and context clues for long enough to know that the people in the photograph are dead. It’s in the lack of a wedding ring on the detective’s finger, the hunch of his shoulders, the crease between his eyebrows. Steve sees Grace open her mouth, probably to ask about them, so he tosses his arm across her shoulders and draws her into his side before she can get a word out.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, standing and making his way to the door. He pauses before stepping out. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Williams replies distractedly. He never once looks away from the photo as Steve and Grace shut the door behind themselves.

-0-

Steve beats Williams to the office the next day, but it’s only by a matter of minutes. Steve can only stare at the man as he walks in, wearing crisply ironed slacks, a neat dress shirt, and a tie.

“What?” Williams asks after a minute. “What, did I drop crumbs on me or something?”

“You just-” Steve hesitates, gesturing with one hand. “How long you been on the island again?”

Williams throws his hands into the air. “Fuck you and your island,” he says with the air of someone who’s had this fight a thousand times. “There is nothing wrong with the way I dress. This, this is called _professional attire_ , my friend. Whereas you-” He stops, squints, continues. “Are you wearing cargo pants, McGarrett? Seriously?”

Steve shrugs. “They’re comfortable. And it’s practical to wear something like this, rather than what you’re wearing.”

“Practical?” Williams has a funny little edge to his voice, like he can’t decide if he should be laughing or shouting, so he’s trying to keep from doing either. He’s kind of failing at it, though, because his voice keeps rising as he speaks. “How is it practical to look like you’re still in high school while acting as an officer of the law?”

Steve looks up at the man as he responds. “Easier to clean the bloodstains out of mine. They’re also cheaper to replace if it comes to that.”

Williams stares at him for a solid thirty seconds before turning on his heel and making his way to the next office.

Steve grins. This is going to be _fun_.

“Hey,” he says when he enters the other office. Williams is arranging things on his desk, files and folders and that one photo. “I had some questions about the things in that evidence file of yours.”

Williams follows Steve out of his office into the main room. Steve spreads a few of the papers on the conference table, and they spend the morning poring over reports and photos and eyewitness accounts. Williams finally pushes away from the table with a sigh.

“Lunch,” he says firmly. “Come on, McGarrett. Even you have to eat.”

Steve glances at his watch, surprised to find that it’s nearly 1500. “I’m supposed to get Grace in an hour,” he murmurs. There’s an absolute sort of stillness after that, and when Steve glances up, Williams has a stricken look on his face. Steve files the information away and smoothly stands. “Pizza? I’m buying.”

There’s a flicker of something that might be relief, might be gratefulness, before Williams stands as well. “I bet you’re one of those pineapple-on-pizza freaks of nature, aren’t you?” Steve shrugs as he heads for the door, and Williams continues, clearly building up a head of steam. “That, my friend, is just wrong. Pizza – real pizza, mind you, the kind that I apparently cannot get in this pineapple-infested hellhole - _real_ pizza, McGarrett, is dough and sauce and mozz. That is it. Maybe, maybe once in a blue moon, sausage can be added, but this?” He waves expansively, indicating pretty much the entire island, maybe the whole state. “This, it’s just wrong. Fruit has a time and a place, and neither of those are when pizza is involved.”

They’ve been making their way towards the parking lot the whole time, and Williams has stopped next to a sleek silver Camaro. He opens the door and looks over at Steve expectantly.

“Come on, get in,” Williams says, sliding into the driver’s seat. “Buckle up, let’s go, I’m starving, McGarrett.”

“Steve,” he replies, buckling his seat belt.

Williams blinks. “Steve,” he repeats. “Okay. Okay, I can do that.”

He starts the car and pulls out of the parking lot without saying another word.

-0-

“Daddy!” Grace beams at him, jumping into his arms as soon as Steve walks through the door. “Me and Nana made cookies today!”

Marilyn gives him a tired smile as she comes out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “I made up a tray of them for you to take into the office.”

“Thanks,” Steve replies as he takes the cookies from Marilyn and sets them on the end table. “How was she today?”

“She’s an angel,” Marilyn says fondly, rubbing her hand over Grace’s back as she snuggles into Steve’s neck. “I’m glad you decided to let her stay here while you’re at work, Steve.”

“Where else would I send her?” Steve asks with a frown.

Marilyn shrugs. “There are a lot of wonderful day care services around-”

“Please tell me you’re kidding me,” Steve says, setting Grace down. “Marilyn, why would I put her in some sort of day care when there’s family around?”

Marilyn looks at him for a second before smiling and leaning in to hug him tightly. Steve wraps his arms around her automatically as she speaks into his shoulder. “I always forget that you’re one of the really good guys,” she tells him, pulling back. “Steve, I have to think that a lot of people in this situation wouldn’t try so hard to keep us in Grace’s life.”

“Oh,” Steve responds to that, mostly because he’s not sure what else he could say. “Well, she’s your granddaughter as much as she’s my baby, Marilyn. You and Roger and me, we’re all she knows.” His voice goes soft, pained. “I’m not taking anything else from her if I can help it. Not now, not ever.”

Marilyn gives him one last squeeze before stepping away. “Grace, go gather your things, sweetie.” As Grace skips out of the room, Marilyn turns back to Steve. “How’s the investigation going?”

The smile slips from Steve’s face. He’d called Marilyn and Roger immediately after Williams had left his house that first day; the man had already been to see them. Steve knows that he’s not technically supposed to, but he’s keeping them in the loop as far as the investigation goes. “Slowly.”

“Is there anything we can do?”

Steve smiles and tilts his head towards the tray of cookies. “These should help. I’m pretty sure my new partner can be bribed with baked goods.”

Marilyn lets out a soft laugh. “If that’s so, Steve, you just let me know. There’s more where those came from.”

Steve laughs as Grace comes back into the room with her backpack, stuffed to the brim with things she just couldn’t go without for the day. It looks like she hasn’t even opened it. “Ready, Daddy?”

“Give your Nana a hug,” Steve instructs, picking up the cookie tray. Grace flings her arms around Marilyn, and Steve watches as Marilyn carefully closes her arms around Grace. Her eyes close as she hugs the little girl, and she only lets go when Grace starts to wriggle against her.

“I’ll keep you up-to-date,” Steve promises as he swings Grace up into one arm, backpack and all. She giggles as he blows a raspberry into her neck. “Ready, munchkin?”

“Ready, Daddy,” she chirps as they walk out the door and head home.

-0-

Grace wakes up with nightmares again that night. The screams tear Steve out of his own sleep and have him running down the hall, gun in hand, finding his daughter tangled in her own sheets, tossing as she sobs in her sleep. He cradles her to him, shushing her gently, rubbing her back until she drops off, only to wake again a few hours later.

“What’s so scary, munchkin?” he asks gently the third time he wakes her up and calms her down.

“I miss Mommy,” she says into his shirt. “I want to give her a hug and make cookies with her and sing the Itsy Bitsy Spider.”

“I’ll sing with you,” Steve tries helplessly, but Grace just shakes her head and breathes shakily against him.

Steve answers the knock on the door the next morning on autopilot, stepping aside quickly as his partner bustles right in, already going at a million miles an hour.

“Here’s the thing, see,” Williams starts, spinning so he’s facing Steve, who’s sipping at his tea as he shuts the door. “You, I don’t even know, you’ve gotta know that this case, it’s like the worst possible case for me. I don’t think you know that, you need to know that, I don’t want to be on this case.”

“Oh.” Steve pulls his mug away from his face with a frown. “Um, sorry. I didn’t – you can go back to HPD if it bothers you that much, Williams, I thought-”

“ _That’s just it_ ,” Williams spits out. “I can’t. I cannot let this case go. It is going to rip me into shreds, and working with you, God, I’m going to kill myself if you don’t do it for me, but I’m so fucking grateful that you-”

“Swear jar!” Grace calls from the kitchen, and Steve watches Williams freeze and close off between one heartbeat and the next.

“You’re with your kid,” he says, like the words are burning him from the inside. “I’ll just – I’ll see you at the office. Sorry.”

And then he walks back out the door, climbs into his car, and drives away.

-0-

It’s less than half an hour before Steve gets to the office – Grace had been finished with her Apple Jacks by the time Williams barged in, so it hadn’t taken long to gather her up and get her to Marilyn’s. Steve tosses his keys onto his desk and boots his computer, mind half on the case and half on his possibly-unwilling partner.

There’s a knock on his office door, and the man in question leans his head in. Steve tilts his head and Williams walks in, dropping into the chair across from Steve’s desk.

“What’s on your-” Steve starts, but Williams holds up a hand and Steve stops mid-sentence. There’s a pause for a few seconds, and then the hand moves from midair to pinching the bridge of Williams’ nose.

“Look, I have to say a few things, and it’s really going to be easier if I can just – go with this, I guess, so let me, let me just-”

There’s another pause before Steve softly says, “Okay,” and Williams lets out a breath.

“This case, okay, it came across my desk when the accident happened. And I look into it, because I am good at my job, and I notice these things that just don’t add up, so I open a formal investigation. I track down a few leads, I rant and rave at the saint-like Detective Hanamoa for a while, and then I go to visit the victim’s family, because that’s what a detective does, right, they talk to families.”

It’s like he’s reciting facts out of a handbook as he stares at the wall somewhere over Steve’s shoulder. “And then, okay, I meet the woman’s parents, and they’re nice and clearly grieving and don’t know anything, not a damn thing, this is immediately apparent to me. So I go to the second home on my list of two, and the door is opened by this giant guy who is wearing pajamas and has hair sticking up all over the place, and he brings me inside and his daughter introduces herself, right, like any polite kid would do. Only I freeze up, see, because-”

Steve waits the silence out. That pinched, pained look is back on Williams’ face. “I freeze up,” Williams finally continues, softly now. “I can’t even talk for a few seconds, because I’m remembering Julia, right, the first time she met my new partner back in Hoboken. She held her hand out, and she goes, ‘My name is Julia Williams, it’s very nice to meet you,’ and it’s all I can think when I look at that little girl trying to shake my hand.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says quietly. Williams nods and closes his eyes.

“Nineteen months ago,” he says, “I was working a case back home. Big thing, mob boss, the whole nine yards, and I’m lead on the case. It’s going well, we’re getting all the evidence we need to finally get this asshole off the streets, and then one day I get into the office and there’s a message blinking on my machine. And it’s this voice, right, just leaving a phone number, so I call it back – sometimes tipsters, you know, weirder things have happened.” He shrugs a shoulder. “And the guy answers the phone and I introduce myself, and he laughs a little, this creepy fucking sound that haunts my goddamned nightmares, and he asks me if I hugged my kid before I left my house this morning, if I told my wife I loved her.”

His eyes open and he finally, finally looks at Steve. “By the time I got home, they were both – and the house was on fire, insult to injury, right?” His smile is a shadow, twisting his face, and it looks like it’s physically painful. “They were everything, my whole life, and the longer I stayed and tried to put the pieces back together the more I realized that the pieces just weren’t there any more.” He spreads his hands in front of himself. “So I got the hell out of there. Left the memories, left the ghosts, I even left my fucking wedding ring with my mother because looking at it was just-”

“That’s why Gracie bothers you so much,” Steve replies after a minute. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, man.”

Williams’ expression shifts to a strange little smile as he shakes his head, looking down into his lap. “Thing of it is, you are one of maybe six people I don’t want to punch in the face when they offer sympathy, because you’ve been there, at least to some degree.”

Steve swallows past the lump in his throat and nods. “Cath was my best friend,” he says, and he can’t quite keep the pain out of his voice; it’s still too fresh. “Grace – Jesus, Williams. I can’t even-”

“Don’t try,” Williams replies, voice serious. “It’s pretty much the most god-awful thing you can imagine, but worse.”

There’s another silence; Steve’s trying to process the information he’s just heard, and Williams just looks wrung out. It’s a few minutes before he speaks again.

“That’s why I can’t drop this case, even though I’m seeing ghosts in every corner,” Williams says. “We got my guy, put him away, but I remember the search, remember how terrible everything was. If I can help you put your guy away…”

“Thank you,” Steve replies, oddly touched. “Cath wasn’t – we weren’t together, not like that, but we were friends for a long time. It means – thanks, Williams.”

The other man regards him for a long time, head tilted, considering. Finally, he cracks the barest hint of a smile. “Danny.”

“Danny,” Steve repeats, giving his own small smile in return.

“Yeah,” Danny replies. “I pour my heart out to someone, I’d like to think I like them enough to have them call me by my name.”

Steve smiles fully, and there’s a kind of peace in the office for a moment. It’s ruined, of course, by a knock on the door and a familiar face poking in. “Daddy!”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Marilyn says as Grace rushes into Steve’s arms. “I have to take Roger to the doctor – nothing serious, don’t you worry – and I forgot about it until he reminded me just now. It’s no place for a five-year-old. I’ll only be an hour, two at the most.” She glances around, smiling as her eyes land on Danny. “Detective. Did you like the cookies?”

“They were excellent, ma’am,” Danny replies as he stands. He shoots Steve an indecipherable look as he leads Marilyn from the office, leaving Steve with Grace.

“I brought my coloring book,” she tells him, tugging on the zipper of her backpack. Steve takes it from her and gently unzips it, pulling the coloring book and a pack of crayons from the bag and setting them on his desk. Grace leans over and opens the book, showing Steve what she’s already finished in the book.

Danny sticks his head back in, looking directly at Steve, never letting his gaze drift down to the little girl in his lap. “I’m just gonna-”

He jerks his thumb over his shoulder at his office and Steve nods, a little surprised by how easily they’ve fallen into the sort of nonverbal communication that usually takes a while to develop. Steve stands Grace up before rising himself, and he leads her over and situates her on the couch by the window before heading into Danny’s office.

“So I’ve got an idea,” he begins, sitting in Danny’s office chair.

-0-

Steve’s idea is kind of simple in that it doesn’t have many steps, and ridiculously difficult in that, the next day, the subject of said idea is staring at them like they’ve grown extra heads.

“No,” Chin says flatly, looking between the two men on the other side of the table. “Either you have no idea what you’re asking me, or you’re an asshole, McGarrett.”

“Asshole,” Danny immediately jumps in. Steve shoots him a scowl before turning back to Chin.

“We need someone with local experience and connections,” he coaxes. “You’re that guy, Chin.”

The problem with the plan, Steve thinks, is that Chin Ho Kelly is one stubborn son-of-a-bitch. It’s one of the things that made him a good cop, that unwillingness to let things be, but it’s also one of his more infuriating character traits.

“Find someone else,” Chin tells him, rising from the table and walking away.

Steve watches him leave, at a loss for the right words. He’d known, of course, that convincing his dad’s old partner to join his task force wouldn’t be easy, but he’d expected Chin to at least listen for more than a few sentences before telling him to shove it.

“Here’s the thing,” Danny says when Chin’s almost to the door. “The thing, the real thing of it is - asshole or no, he’s right, Kelly. We need someone local, someone with connections, someone who doesn’t have too many ties to anything in particular. Someone who wants this.”

Chin is stopped dead in the doorway, one hand curled tightly around the frame. His other is very perfectly still by his side as Danny continues. “You’re right, too. He has no idea what he’s asking you to do here.” Steve opens his mouth, but shuts it when Danny shoots him a glare. “He has no fucking idea what it would mean to put a badge back on you. He’s not a cop.” There’s a pause, a head tilt. “I am. I get it. I know, and I’m still asking.”

Chin’s free hand is now pressed to his thigh, and Steve can see the tension in every muscle of the man’s back. Finally, he turns his head back over his shoulder to look at Danny.

“You know this is it, right?” he asks, voice low, and Danny just nods. Chin closes his eyes as he lets out a breath. He opens them a moment later and gives a decisive nod. “Okay. I know a guy.”

-0-

  
Chin had given them directions, told them to give him a head start, and left. As soon as he walks out the door, Steve turns to Danny.

“What the hell was that?”

Danny shrugs. “Cop-to-cop stuff.” Steve raises an eyebrow, and Danny squints at him. “What, what is that, what is that face?”

“What face?” Steve asked, raising the second eyebrow to join the first. “It’s just my face.”

“Just his face, he says,” Danny mutters, gesturing grandiosely. “Just your face, sure, telling me that you think I’m full of shit.”

“Cop-to-cop stuff,” Steve repeats as blandly as he can manage. “Okay, I get that asking him to join the task force is a little unorthodox, but I don’t understand why it would have riled him up like it did, and I’m not even going to pretend to understand why what you said worked.”

Danny starts to move towards the exit. “Imagine you’re with your group, your unit, whatever they call a bunch of seals, what, a harem, you’re with your-” He stops, scowls, starts again. “No, scratch that, we’re going with pack. You’re with your SEAL buddies, whatever, and you take down a huge, I don’t know, terrorist ring, and it’s your op. You with me?”

Steve barely has the time to nod before Danny’s speaking again. “So it goes down great, perfectly, and you’re all slapping each other on the back or chest thumping or however it is you celebrate-”

“You have very strange ideas about the Navy,” Steve tells them as they slide into Danny’s Camaro. They buckle in and Steve pulls the car out of the parking lot, watching from the corner of his eye as Danny speaks with words and motions, all coming together to create a very specific meaning.

“-shooting people, you probably shoot people. Anyway, in the middle of congratulating yourselves, some asshole bureaucrat comes along and says hey, the guns we confiscated from these assholes are missing, and he points his finger at you.”

There’s a minute of silence, of stillness, as Steve processes the scene in his head. He nods slowly, and Danny continues. “And your friends, your buddies, the guys you trusted with life and limb – all of a sudden they’re looking at you like you’re in league with the guys you just took down, just because some random guy with an official title says you are, even though there’s no proof of it. They just ignore the history you have together, ignore everything they know about you as a professional and as a person, and think you’re dirty.”

“Oh,” Steve replies, feeling a little sucker punched as he fills in the blanks. “And I pretty much asked him to just forget all of that.”

“Pretty much,” Danny agrees. “Hence, asshole.”

“Okay, I might have deserved that one,” Steve admits grudgingly. “But what – Chin said that this is it.”

“His last shot to redeem himself, if you will,” Danny supplies. “His last chance to prove he didn’t take the money he was accused of stealing.”

“Do you think he did?”

“Do you?” Danny’s tone is sharp, pointed. “That’s the question here, Steven. No, no, I do not think he took any money, but I’m not the theoretical boss here, so it’s not my opinion on the matter that means something.”

“I don’t know the details of the case,” Steve says slowly. “But Chin – the one who was my dad’s partner before he died, the one I remember all through school – no way, man. No fucking way.”

“Good,” Danny says firmly, resting his hands in his lap. “That’s good.”

-0-

They meet Chin at a shave ice stand, are bilked out of a frankly ridiculous amount of money, and have to stand thirty yards away wearing tee shirts big enough to share while the guy gives Chin what they need. It’s a little awkward, standing so obviously against the car; both Steve and Danny have their arms crossed, and they’re not talking, not looking at each other.

The silence is broken by the strains of _Under The Sea_ , and Steve feels his face break into a smile as he answers the phone and takes a few steps from Danny. “Hey, munchkin.”

“Hi, Daddy,” Grace chirps, and he listens as she tells him about helping Poppy repaint a room in the house and something about a unicorn and a dolphin, he isn’t quite sure what, while she wanders around Marilyn’s place. The conversation isn’t long – five minutes, maybe, just Grace checking in with him. He understands her need to hear his voice, after losing Cath, and he’d never deny his baby anything, least of all her need to reassure herself. He’s not afraid to admit to himself that it makes him feel better, too.

“I gotta go, baby,” he breaks in gently as Chin finally nods at the shave ice guy and starts walking away from the stand. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” she says solemnly. “Be careful.”

“Of course,” he replies quickly. “Love you, munchkin.”

“Love you too,” she says back, and then he’s sliding the phone into his pocket as Chin walks up.

“Found your name,” he says, and there’s a moment of conferring before Steve and Danny get back into Danny’s car and make their way back to headquarters.

“You don’t have to do that, y’know,” Danny says suddenly, three minutes in. Steve blinks and looks over, but Danny’s eyes are firmly on the road ahead of him. “With Grace. Move away, I mean. It’s not – not the end of the world, okay, I can handle it if you need to talk to your kid for a few minutes.”

Steve’s a little speechless for a minute, trying to wrap his head around the statement. “It’s no big deal for me to just-”

“See, though, it is. Can’t lie to a dad about dad stuff, okay, you should know that. Didn’t matter when Julia called, what I was doing, it was just – she was everything. I would always, always answer the phone, always talk to her, and my partners, they always got it. And I get it, Steve, I do, just talk to her, it’s fine.”

The words spill out like Danny can’t help them, fierce and fast and heartfelt. Steve is torn between protesting and thanking him, can’t decide which is the appropriate response, but he’s saved from having to decide by Danny sliding the Camaro into a parking spot.

“We’re here,” Danny says unnecessarily, opening his door.

Steve leans over before he can talk himself out of it, grabbing Danny’s wrist. “I’m – thanks,” he says, and it feels really awkward for a second, but then the lines around Danny’s eyes soften and he shakes his head a little.

“You’re ridiculous,” he replies as he gets out of the car, and Steve can’t help his smile.

-0-

Steve is in the middle of making pizza with Grace when the phone rings. It takes a little juggling, and he’s going to have to wipe the face of his phone, but a few seconds after, he says, “You’re on speaker.”

“Um,” Danny replies, voice a little staticky. “Hey.”

“Hi, Detective Williams,” Grace yells, as if the speaker isn’t going to pick her up from three feet away. “We’re making pizza!”

“Yeah, Danny, give me a second,” Steve says, moving to the sink and nudging the water on with his wrist. He starts to rinse his hands, rubbing them together briskly, as Danny’s voice comes through the phone.

“No, Steve, forget it, it’s not-”

“Shut it, Williams,” Steve says mildly, grabbing the phone and switching the speaker off as he manages to wipe the sauce off and slide it to his ear. “What’s up?”

Steve can hear the hesitation over the line. “I have beer,” Danny says finally. “And Kool-Aid, and an empty apartment that’s driving me insane, and-”

“Door’s open,” Steve interrupts. “You do Hawaiian pizza?”

“Do I do Hawaiian – no, Steven, that, that is a travesty. Nobody actually eats – oh, God, you do, you actually _eat_ that, ham and pineapple, and you feed it to your kid. Okay, you know what, never mind, I’ll just go home and-”

“Danny,” Steve says, a little surprised at how fond he sounds. “I’ll leave it plain, okay? Just get over here.” There’s a little more hesitation, and Steve represses the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “You’re already here, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Danny replies defensively. “I thought, I don’t know, I just came over. With the beer. And then I picked up the Kool-Aid on the way, the red one, who doesn’t like the red one, am I right?”

Steve has been walking towards the front door while Danny’s been speaking, and by the time he opens it, Danny’s hand is outstretched over where the knob had just been, six pack of Longboards and a grocer’s bag with a jug of Kool-Aid in the other hand, phone balanced on one broad shoulder. He grins up at Steve.

“Um,” he says a little sheepishly, “hi?”

Steve can only stare for a second, slow smile creeping over his own face as his stomach twists and turns, because he’s suddenly realizing how Danny’s eyes soften when he smiles, how one side of his mouth quirks a little higher than the other, how much he appreciates that Danny stopped for Kool-Aid, how happy he is that Danny’s here at all. It’s a monumentally bad idea, the wrong guy, the worst timing, but Steve recognizes the signs anyway as he steps aside and grabs the drinks from his partner’s hand.

“Let’s go rescue the pizza,” Steve says, nodding towards the kitchen. “I left Grace in there, spreading cheese-”

“You left her alone in the kitchen? We’ll be lucky if it’s even still edible-”

“Hey, Gracie makes great pizza,” Steve defends as they walk into the kitchen. Grace looks up from where she’s intently placing shredded cheese on the pizza, piece by piece, and nods.

“I make little crisscrosses with the cheese,” she says seriously, and Steve has to bite his lip to keep from laughing as Danny nods at her.

“That’s one way of doing it,” he agrees, taking the Kool-Aid back from Steve. “Hey, I stopped at the store on the way over, and I don’t know, we’ve never really had the red-or-orange-or-blue conversation, you and me, but I figured-” And he produces the Kool-Aid, watching Grace a little hesitantly.

Grace gasps dramatically and hops from the chair she’s standing on, running over to throw her arms around Danny’s legs and squeeze him tightly. “Thank you,” she says excitedly, twisting until her head is upside down, arms still around Danny’s legs. “Daddy, Daddy, can I have a glass of juice?”

“I wouldn’t call it juice,” Steve says, but he’s already reaching for a cup as he takes the Kool-Aid from Danny.

Grace frowns. “Then what is it?”

“I-” Steve frowns, thinks about trying to explain the finer aspects of Kool-Aid to his five-year-old, and says, “You know what, let’s just call it juice, that works.”

Grace giggles as she rights herself, clinging to Danny’s legs again. “Daddy is silly,” she says brightly, smiling conspiratorially up at Danny, who smiles back like he can’t help it, and if there’s a little twist of sadness in his eyes, Grace doesn’t notice.

“He is,” Danny confirms, smiling a little wider when Grace giggles at him. She lets go of his legs when Steve sets her cup on the table, gripping it with both hands and taking a long sip. When she puts the cup down, yeah, her lips are stained cherry-red, as is the skin around her mouth.

“Tell Danny thank you, Grace,” Steve reminds as he discreetly rearranges the cheese on the pizza and sticks it in the oven.

“Thank you, Danno,” Grace singsongs. She lifts the cup back to her mouth and takes another sip, so she doesn’t see the stunned look flash through Danny’s expression, replaced almost instantly by a small, genuine smile.

Steve doesn’t miss it.

He doesn’t bring it up, though, not then, and not through dinner, not after when the three of them sprawl across the couch and put on the Disney channel. Steve carries Grace up to her room and tucks her in when she falls asleep, and he’s surprised when he gets back downstairs to find that Danny’s still staring at Hannah Montana on the television.

“She’s a great kid,” Danny remarks quietly as Steve settles back into the cushions.

“Thanks,” Steve replies with a soft smile. “I’m kind of fond of her myself.”

It’s really, really weird that Steve doesn’t find this strange at all, sitting in the semi-darkness of his own living room with his partner, a man he’s known for about a week – a man he’s attracted to, yeah – with the muted television offering them flashes into the life of a teenaged pop star, someone whose music his baby girl sings, someone he hopes she has no aspirations to become. It’s peaceful, actually, sitting there with Danny, and Steve can’t, for the life of him, figure out why.

“Julia used to call me Daddo,” Danny says suddenly, and Steve shifts until they’re facing each other from opposite ends of the couch. “It’s why – before, when Grace called me Danno.”

“Sorry,” Steve offers quietly. “I’ll talk to her.”

Danny half-smiles. “Nah, let her. Nickname means she likes me, right, that’s a good thing. Don’t ruin it by telling her I don’t like the nickname.”

“She liked you the second you walked in with Kool-Aid,” Steve points out with a smile of his own. “You let her keep the nickname, she’s gonna adopt you, fair warning.”

Danny laughs and stares at his hands, folded in his lap. “I don’t-” he begins, but lets the sentence lapse, and the silence returns.

“I’m gonna get going,” Danny says a little later, so Steve stands and walks him to the door like any good host would do. Danny pauses on the porch, tilting his head at Steve. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“I’ll bring the malasadas, you get the coffee,” Steve bargains, and Danny flashes him another smile as he walks down the steps.

Steve closes the door when Danny turns the Camaro on, leaning his head against it as he works the locks and alarm.

 _Hell_ , he thinks tiredly to himself, because honestly, how could he be stupid enough to actually fall for his partner?

-0-

Danny is already in his office when Steve gets in the following morning; it’s not like Danny’s been late until now, but it still registers with Steve as he’s walking into the building. Danny is sitting at his desk, pen flying across a form of some sort. There are papers scattered across his desk, all with some form of Danny’s chicken-scratch handwriting on them. There’s a paper coffee cup on the edge of the desk in one of those carryout containers; when Steve sets the malasadas down in front of Danny and grabs for it, it’s cold, as if it’s been there for a while.

“What’s up?” he asks, sitting on the corner of the desk. Danny might be the detective in their partnership, but Steve can put two and two together just fine.

“Last night,” Danny says steadily, signing the form with a particularly hard jab and setting it aside before picking up another. “Last night, I went to your house, ate dinner with you and your daughter, watched kids’ shows, let her give me a nickname, and then I get home after what was, all told, a more-than-decent evening, and there’s this picture of Julia and Rachel on my end table, and I can hear my kid laughing in my head and hear my wife’s voice, and-”

Danny cuts himself off abruptly, and when he looks up there’s nothing hidden on his face. No, it’s all right there, all the hurt and vulnerability and want and confusion, plain as anything across his features. It makes Steve suck in a breath, sharp and quick, because maybe he isn’t the only one who’s noticed things like laugh lines and casual touches – and Danny, Danny had been the one to show up in his driveway last night.

But there’s a lot of hurt there with the good, too, Danny’s wife and kid, and then there’s Cath. Steve knows that it’s too much, too soon, too close to what might make them both happy not to be dangerous, so he takes a steadying breath and pushes off of the desk, taking a few steps away.

“Okay,” he says quietly, locking his eyes with Danny’s. Okay, yeah, not now; they both know, though, they’ve both acknowledged that this is maybe more than they thought it was.

Steve forces himself to take three steps away, wrench Danny’s office door open, and walk out.

It’s easy enough to lose himself in the work, to study patterns and dig through old files until they come up with a few solid leads, and it’s early afternoon before Steve surfaces again. He raps his hand on Chin’s door and the other man looks up from his computer screen. Steve relays what he’s found, and there’s enough to go on – there’s a name and a location and, when they call Danny in, there’s a plan, too, and Chin’s got the perfect addition to their team, the last piece of the puzzle they need to find Cath’s killer.

Steve vaguely remembers the cousin Chin’s introducing them to, but his memories of her are of an awkward teenager on a surfboard, trying to figure out how to fit limbs that are still growing onto a board that’s the same size. The woman that Chin calls over to meet them has elements of that girl, sure, but she carries herself with confidence and grace and an ease that speaks to knowing exactly what she’s capable of.

Steve likes her instantly. Danny, he can tell, likes her a few seconds after that, when she lays out the asshole who had cut into her wave like he doesn’t outweigh her by at least thirty pounds.

Chin’s laugh is what gets her attention; she looks up and her face breaks into a delighted smile. And there’s the excited kid that Steve remembers, practically skipping up the beach to toss herself into Chin’s arms, the two of them slipping easily into a mixture of Hawaiian and pidgin and family-ese that Steve could never hope to follow. He catches Danny’s eye roll over where the cousins are chatting.

“I’ve gotta learn some of that,” he says, jerking his thumb at Chin and Kono.

Steve just laughs. “Impossible. That’s not a language, that’s telepathy with sound.” At Danny’s confused look, he adds, “I have no idea what they’re talking about right now.”

“Ah,” Danny says, face clearing like he understands. “My cousins had a thing like that. Twins. They just, and nobody else can even get a word in edgewise, it’s like their own language.” And Danny’s got his own sort of language, Steve thinks, hands flying around his body to punctuate his statements, expand them, cut off his sentences.

“I’ll do it,” Kono says suddenly, and it’s clear that she’s talking to him. He turns to face her, and there’s a serious look on her face. “Chin explained what you need. I’m game.” She seems to hesitate for a second before resting her hand lightly on his arm. “I’m sorry about your wife.”

“Thanks,” Steve says automatically. People make the mistake all the time. He’ll correct her later; for now, it’s not important. “Let’s get you read in, then.”

-0-

Kono’s talking to the scumbag before long, transformed from the cool, competent officer she’d been to a scared, trembling young woman. She’s good, Steve thinks – given Chin’s past, too, it might be good for her to be on the task force; HPD won’t be a healthy environment, and while he doesn’t doubt that she can handle herself, he’s a little worried about the possibility of her getting hung out to dry by a partner with an axe to grind.

Steve focuses back in as the guy, Sang Min, orders Kono to drop her dress and takes a picture. It traces back to somewhere in HPD, goddamn it all, but then they’re busting through the doors and there’s gunfire and Kono puts down three thugs with neatly executed kicks. They get Sang Min, cuff him, bring him back to headquarters, and Steve thinks about it for less than a minute before he’s drawing Danny aside and quietly explaining his plan.

Danny looks murderous but agrees; shortly thereafter, they’re in the room where Sang Min is handcuffed to a chair, smirk firmly in place.

“I want my lawyer,” he says confidently as Steve sits.

“Too fucking bad,” Danny snarls at him, standing behind his own chair, gripping the file Steve had given him tightly in his hand. “You don’t get that option here, asshole. Did you hear me read you your Miranda rights, no, no you did not, and I don’t even think this guy knows what they are. You do not have the right to an attorney, asswipe, because you take little girls out of their homes and sell them as sex slaves.” He turns to Steve. “That sound like the kind of guy who deserves an attorney to you?”

“Sure doesn’t,” Steve replies mildly, tipping his chair back a little and folding his hands across his stomach. Shocked, he thinks, is a great look on Sang Min, that combination of surprise and a little bit of fear.

“Here’s the deal,” Danny continues. “This is your only deal. There will be no negotiations, no other offers. You take this or you don’t, that’s up to you, but this is it. You are going to prison. You are going to prison for a long time, that’s not even on the table, my friend, not even close to it.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a deal,” Sang Min tosses out, and it might sound like he’s saving face, but Steve can hear the undercurrent of tension, of wondering what these crazy cops might be considering if they’ve thrown the Miranda rights out the window.

Danny doesn’t take his eyes from Sang Min’s face as he opens the file and grabs at the photos inside. He tosses them on the table as he speaks again. “I will personally see to it that they’re deported if you don’t help us,” he says, voice clipped and razor-thin. “I will _make sure_ they’re dropped into the middle of militia territory. Your son, yeah, he’s about the right age for their recruiting agency to take some interest, and your wife, she’s pretty, I’m sure someone would toss her into the mud, hold her down, tear her clothing off-”

“Who the fuck are you people?” Sang Min bursts out, eye wide and terrified as he looks at the pictures of his family.

“We need a name,” Steve says calmly, setting his chair back down and leaning across the table. “We just need a name and a way to track that name. You give it to us, you go away, but your family? They stay right where they are.”

Sang Min stares down at the pictures as he replies. “Who?”

They’re walking out ten minutes later, a name and three addresses scrawled onto a piece of paper. Danny is tense, wired, as he tosses the keys to his car to Steve and slides into the passenger seat. Steve is perplexed as he gets into the driver’s seat, before he realizes that Danny needs the ability and the space to rant right now.

“Do not, do not ever make me do that again,” he says, deadly quiet, as soon as the doors are shut. “Using someone’s family against them like that, Steve, do you have any idea, threatening that guy with sending his wife and kid off to get killed – do you even-”

“Hate me for it if you want,” Steve says, just as softly, as he starts the car. “It was effective, Danny, and you’re the only one of us who has what it takes to pull something like that off.”

Danny’s quiet for a while, almost the entire drive to the first address, but when they pull up outside the modest house outside of Mililani, he opens his mouth again. “I understand that this case means a lot to you – getting the guy who got your girl, I get that, do not think that I don’t know where you’re coming from. All I’m saying is, get where I’m coming from a little bit, okay?”

Steve lets out a breath. “Yeah,” he replies. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Danny repeats, sitting back up. “Let’s do this, then.”

The takedown is almost comically simple: their guy, an international fugitive named Victor Hesse, is actually asleep inside the house. There’s no security detail, no alarm system to trip, and he wakes but stays pretty still when Steve puts the gun against his head while Danny slaps the cuffs on him.

“You haven’t figured out why,” Hesse taunts as Danny hauls his half-naked body out of the bed. “You’ve no idea why I killed that stupid whore of yours, have you?”

“Watch your tongue,” Danny says mildly as he leads Hesse from the room, twisting so Hesse’s face slams into the woodwork of the door. “Oops.”

Hesse is still smiling smugly when Danny pulls him back, and something in Steve’s gut twists. “Danny,” he murmurs, and Danny stops short, managing to send Hesse sprawling into the wall. Steve stalks over and pulls the man up, looking into his eyes. And either Hesse is a complete psychopath or there’s something Steve missed, because there’s nothing but smug satisfaction in his eyes.

“What is it that you want me to know so badly?” Steve snarls at the man, shaking him when his smile slips into something even more smug.

“I hope that little girl of yours means half as much to you as my brother meant to me,” Hesse says softly. “I hope you told her you loved her before you left this morning.”

‘Under The Sea’ sounds from Steve’s pocket, and he’s standing there frozen as he hears the song, watches Hesse’s smile widen impossibly further.

“You should get that,” he remarks almost casually. “I hear that it’s important to say goodbye.”

Hesse is suddenly gone, not in his grip any more, and Steve blinks to see Danny letting go of the man, letting him slump to the floor. There’s blood, but it’s not enough to be from a life-threatening injury, Steve catalogues, a little dazedly, as his phone keeps ringing.

Danny’s swearing, words that Steve’s pretty sure Danny is making up spilling from his lips as he roots through Steve’s pants for the phone. He gets it and jabs at the button to answer it just before the song comes to an end. “Hello?”

Steve watches as Danny’s face registers surprise before easing into a grin. He makes a few responses to whoever’s on the other side, ending on an “on our way” before ending the call and tucking the phone back into Steve’s pocket.

“Chin,” he supplies as he looks up. “She’s fine, Steve. Grace is fine, Roger and Marilyn are fine, everyone’s fine. Chin and Kono did a little digging after we flew out of there. You had something to do with getting this guy’s brother killed a few years back, so Chin figured there might be trouble with Gracie. They headed over to Marilyn’s, got the guys who were lurking around outside, they’re all in booking, we get to go home and have pizza.”

“She’s okay?” Steve says blankly, latching onto the only part of the story he can. “Grace is okay?”

Danny’s eyes soften. “She’s fine. I think she’s probably a little shaken up, what with all the police officers and SWAT guys, but she’s _fine_ , Steve.”

“Can we-” Steve swallows, because they’ve got an unconscious suspect in handcuffs less than three feet away and he knows they have to take him downtown, get him booked, everything that goes with the territory, but he needs to see Grace so badly that he thinks he might literally be sick if he can’t.

Danny’s already nodding, though, and at some point he must have called for backup, because there’s an HPD officer walking through the door of the house. Danny points to Hesse and tells the officer to book him with one hand while he grabs Steve’s shoulder with the other, guiding him out of the house and into the car. He fishes his keys out of Steve’s pocket before shoving him gently into the passenger’s seat.

It’s a quiet ten minutes to Marilyn’s house – it should be fifteen, but Danny works some sort of minor miracle and makes it there in record time. Steve is already unbuckling his seatbelt and tearing from the car as Danny pulls up, and Grace is waiting at the door in Marilyn’s arms, straining and wriggling as Marilyn puts her down. Steve falls to the ground as they get close, drawing her tight to his body and feeling her shake against his chest.

“Daddy, Daddy, Nana told me that there were bad men and you were chasing them,” she sobs into his neck. “I was scared, Daddy. What if they got you?”

“They didn’t,” Steve whispers to her. “They didn’t, baby. I’m fine, you’re fine.”

“But you could be gone,” she says clearly. “Just like Mommy.”

And here it is, the part of his job that Steve will never know how to explain to his daughter. He doesn’t know how to explain this to her any better than he did when he was with the SEALs; then he’d mostly let Cath handle it, to be honest. Now, though, now it’s just him, and he’s got nothing to soothe her fears, nothing to calm her down.

“Hey,” Danny says gently, and he’s suddenly kneeling right down with them, steadying himself on Steve’s arm as he looks at Grace. “Grace, do you remember that picture I have at my house? The one you asked about?” Grace nods, face still wet with tears.

“That little girl,” Danny continues. “Do you remember her name?”

“Julia,” Grace whispers.

“Julia,” Danny confirms. “She asked me that once. Do you know what I told her?”

Grace shakes her head.

“Your dad chases bad guys,” Danny tells her. “He does it to protect you because you are the most important person in the whole entire world to him. He doesn’t want the bad guys to hurt you, so he catches them and puts them in jail.”

Grace is completely still in the circle of Steve’s arms. “But what if they hurt _him_?” she asks after a moment. Her tiny hands are still clutching at Steve’s shirt.

“Well,” Danny says thoughtfully. “Your dad doesn’t work alone, right? You met our friends Chin and Kono.” Grace nods. “And me, well, I never let your dad out of my sight, Grace Face.” He leans in conspiratorially. “Except when he goes to the bathroom.”

It does the trick; Grace giggles and lets go of Steve, launching herself at Danny, whose arms go around her automatically, tucking her against his body and sticking his face into her hair. Steve sees his eyes close, notices the tremble in his hands, but neither man comments on it.

“You’ll keep him safe, Danno,” Grace says with all the confidence and utter belief in a person that a five-year-old can have.

“I will do my very best, Grace Face,” Danny replies solemnly. Grace hugs him tightly one last time and runs back into the house, leaving Steve kneeling on the ground next to his partner.

“Thank you,” Steve says, heartfelt. “Just – I never know what to say to her. I mean, how do I explain that I can’t guarantee I’ll come home?”

“You don’t,” Danny says firmly. “She’s not old enough to hear that, Steve. Give her a little more time to think her dad’s some sort of invincible superhero, okay, trust me on this one.”

Steve stands, leaning down to help Danny up when he winces and rubs at his knee. “I’m terrified that I’m going to do something stupid and get hurt. I – she’s already lost Cath, you know?”

Danny gives him a lopsided smile. “Like I just told her, I’ve got your back, babe. Seriously, you don’t listen to me at all, do you?”

Steve grins and shakes his head. “Grace Face?” he asks instead of responding.

“If she gets to call me Danno, I get to call her Grace Face,” Danny responds.

Steve wonders if it’s weird that he doesn’t mind.

-0-

Cath’s death, they find out, was orchestrated to lure Steve back to Hawaii so Hesse could exact some sort of demented revenge on Steve for busting Hesse’s brother, Anton, a few years back. Anton had been running with a group of smugglers dabbling in human trafficking, and when Steve had taken the cell down, Anton had been one of the casualties. The fact that Hesse had been able to get Steve’s name in conjunction with the operation is a little worrying, but for now, at least, everything is over. Steve is really just beyond grateful for his team – without Chin and Kono, Hesse’s men would probably have killed his daughter and her grandparents, and without Danny, Steve would never have even known the attack was coming.

Steve is at a little bit of a loss after Hesse is captured and pleads guilty for a reduced sentence. He’d taken the job as a way to get on Cath’s case, a way to get closure for himself and for their daughter. It’s over now, though, and Steve heads a task force with no tasks. It’s a little awkward, honestly, sitting in the office for a few days after the case, arranging things or hitting the weight room with Chin or sparring with Kono, who will be able to kick his ass six ways from Sunday if Steve doesn’t keep up with his training. He’s almost absurdly grateful when they get a call about a paranoid businessman with NSA connections getting kidnapped in broad daylight – it sucks, yeah, and there’s a traumatized kid, which makes it worse, but it’s something to do.

The team gets closer, somehow; it’s unlike any unit Steve worked with in the SEALs, not even close to any of his experiences. Chin and Kono and Danny quickly settle into place around him, pushing and pulling and tweaking until they work like a seamless machine.

And every night, Steve gets his daughter from Marilyn’s house and takes her home. They grill steaks or make macaroni and cheese or shred lettuce for salad together; Grace has fewer and fewer nightmares. They watch movies and Steve learns to come to expect the color pink in every corner of his life.

Danny comes over, too. Sometimes Steve invites him; just as often, though, Danny just turns up, bringing beer and Kool-Aid or something for dessert. After a while, he’s there more evenings than he’s not, to the point where Steve has found some of Danny’s shirts mixed in with Grace’s flowery socks and his own cargo pants. It’s a little bit of a revelation to him to realize that his partner has all but moved in. It’s even more of a shock when Grace brings it up a few days later.

“Danno comes over a lot,” she says out of nowhere, chasing Cheerios around her bowl with a spoon.

“Yeah,” Steve replies. “Does that make you sad?”

Grace gives him a perfect rendition of Cath’s _what are you, stupid?_ face and very carefully sets her spoon beside her bowl. “Daddy,” she says seriously. “He makes you smile. That doesn’t make me sad.”

“Um,” Steve says eloquently, but then the man in question is making his way through the front door, and the conversation is dropped, at least for now.

Later that night, though, Grace brings it up again. “Is Danno coming over tonight?”

“I think so,” Steve says absently as he checks on the chicken breasts he’s got marinating. They should be ready to go on the grill soon. “Why?”

“I want to talk to him,” Grace replies, and Steve doesn’t think anything of it until he overhears his daughter’s voice through the window later, as he’s taking the chicken off the grill.

“…make my daddy happy, Danno,” comes her little voice.

“That’s good to know,” Danny replies. “Your daddy makes me pretty happy, too.”

“But you yell a lot,” Grace responds, unsure. Danny laughs.

“That’s just how I talk sometimes, Grace Face. I’m not mad at him.”

 _Ah_ , Steve realizes. She must have heard Danny ranting at him this morning, something about procedure and rules and rights, things that Steve knows but sometimes ignores in favor of getting the results he’s looking for. He knows the difference by now, six months in, between Danny ranting and Danny actually angry, and this morning had been the former.

It’s quiet from inside, and Steve moves for the door, stopping when Grace speaks again. “I like it when you’re here.”

“I like it when I’m here, too,” Danny says softly. “I’ll tell you a secret, sweetie. I don’t really like going back to my apartment. It’s really empty there all by myself.”

Steve’s feet are carrying him forward before he makes the decision to move, and he speaks without thinking about the words tumbling from his lips. “Stay here, then.”

Danny and Grace both turn to look at him, Danny with surprise and embarrassment creeping up his face and Grace with a smile. “Grace, munchkin, can you give Daddy and Danno some time to talk?”

“Can I watch Finding Nemo?” she asks, and when Steve nods, she skips out of the room. The movie starts up a minute later, and Steve sets the tray with the chicken down on the counter and takes the seat Grace had just vacated.

“See, now, why would you say something like that?” Danny asks, but he sounds unsteady, like he’d say yes if he could only figure out how.

“I do half of your laundry anyway,” Steve tries to joke, but his smile feels a little strained. “Danny, you’re here more than you’re not anyway. Grace calls the end bedroom ‘Danno’s room’ and has for months.” He hesitates. “I hate the idea of you going back to your apartment alone,” Steve continues, staring down at the table now. “You’re more at home here than I think you’ve ever been there, and I’d rather-”

“I don’t know if I can,” Danny says, and there’s still that strange note of unsteadiness in his voice. “When I’m here, Steve, it’s all I can do to not-”

And it’s suddenly there again, what they’d buried all those months ago, sharp and bright and electric between them. It’s in Danny’s eyes, in his expression, and Steve can feel it mirrored in his own face. He reaches out slowly, cups Danny’s face in his palm, and runs his thumb along Danny’s jaw. “Then do it,” Steve says, barely audible above the sounds of the television from the other room, and then he leans in to brush his lips against Danny’s.

Danny’s eyes are closed when Steve pulls his head back, heart thudding in his chest, just waiting. Danny opens his eyes after a moment, and they’re clear and light and fierce as he stares at Steve.

“God, babe-” And then he’s threading a hand up into Steve’s hair, kissing him like his life hangs in the balance. Steve wraps one arm around his waist and keeps the other on Danny’s face, moving his fingertips over smooth skin and stubble and laugh lines until a giggle from the doorway breaks them apart. Grace is standing there, a huge smile on her face, and she laughs again as they stare at her.

“Are we having dinner, Daddy?” she asks, pointing to the chicken that Steve had all but forgotten about. Finding Nemo is still playing in the other room.

“Oh,” Steve replies. “Dinner, right, of course. Set our plates in the living room, Gracie, and we’ll watch the rest of the movie, okay?”

Danny helps Grace carry the plates and cups into the living room before coming back into the kitchen, ready to help Steve with the food. “Hey,” Steve says, catching him by the wrist as he walks around the edge of the counter to grab the bowl of potatoes. “Stay here with me tonight. Don’t go home.”

Danny smiles at him, that tiny, private smile that means he’s really, truly happy about something. “Babe,” he says as he leans in to brush his lips across Steve’s jaw, “I’m already home.”

**Author's Note:**

> Dear sweet mercy, I feel like I ran this through half of fandom, seriously. Eternal thanks to race_the_ace , who read parts of this even though babies are mentioned; bluespirit_star for providing an absolutely amazing beta job on the first half of this when I started having a panic attack about it; camshaft22 for telling me on more than one occasion that no, Ki, this really doesn't suck; padfootthegrim and stormylullabye and theeverdream for providing the world's quickest beta jobs ever and I owe them so many cookies (August! I will bring them!); and, finally, to calcitrix and clwilson2006, because these ladies have little to no knowledge of the Hawaii Five-0 'verse and yet both patiently listened and let me rant about The Feelings Story for a week while patting my back. At this point, it is quite literally entirely my fault if there are any mistakes left in this. A million, trillion thanks to all of you, because eesh, needy writer is needy. This would never have happened without you ladies!


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